Landon   A Left 4 Dead Fanfic
by magostar117
Summary: THIS IS NOT MINE.   I'm just posting it for my friend, foxwash.  I hope you guys like her work. :3    This fic is about Landon, an inexperienced Hunter, and what he observes one night in the streets of the city.    Just  a 1-shot for now. ON HOLD!  D:
1. Chapter 1

The streets were flushed with abandonment, eerily silent and still. A brisk gust of wind signaled the ushering in of drab, heavy clouds, ready to piss their rain over the city (LOL). It was only a mere two weeks and the Green Flu had swept its way through, claiming nearly all inhabitants as it's diseased prize. Structures were surprisingly still intact, though littered with debris, idling common infected, and, of course, the sight and scent of blood. It was everywhere. Talk about painting the town red. They tended to stay oddly close in numbers, like a flock of sheep, wandering aimlessly; they even paused for a moment, as though tired, or to keel over and expel their stomach contents, or to engage each other in the occasional sissy fight. Perched atop the buildings, he watched them, a curious infected. Should he remember it, his name was Landon. His stature was relatively short for his infected classification, though his build was nevertheless the same; musculature system was rather toned and defined, as all Hunters were; their undead lives depended on it. Particularly the legs boasted the most power to pull off the feats that only they can do: their perilous leaps. Appearance-wise, he appeared rather human-like. A deep blue hoodie that resembled a shark coated his frame, the hood, of course, pulled over the eyes or what he had left of them, four fabric fangs from the shark's maw drooped and shielded much of any vision he still possessed anyway. Three claw marked gashes rested upon the chest of the hoodie, from an encounter before his own infectation. A thick layer of tape bandaged the forearms, as well as the legs and stomach for greater wind resistance, which worked especially well when his stomach panged for rations. The only supply of nourishment he knew of was either Survivors (which were surprisingly dangerous to simply approach without displaying aggressive means; they will shoot x-x) and a wonderfully colorful machine inside a nearby building, a vending machine, that he could sit and stare at for hours without boredom, marveling at the vibrate hues of the advertisement. It always startled the inexperienced Hunter to how little effort it took to slash through a Survivor's flesh, like a warm knife through butter. Not that he would know, he only observed a local pack of other Hunters and learned through their actions and mistakes; later mimicking their attacks on garbage bags and scavenging off their scraps once they'd had their fill. A new set of instincts told him otherwise, however.


	2. Chapter 2

_Flashback.._

**ONE WEEK EARLIER...**

It was his first week as a full Infected, having taken two weeks initially to mesh and conform, many things retaining humanity were now gone, simply replaced. But not all. Landon was often confused, having not noticed much about his own visual appearance; he still considered himself human and continued following daily routines such as visiting the vending machine. But now it was beginning to sink in to his thick skull. Perhaps he had changed..

"Hrrnnn.." he growled softly to himself, examining freshly formed talons that had substituted digits.

He found it peculiar, almost interesting. His complexion had paled drastically, even now displayed a slightly gray-ish tone. How odd.. but no matter. Throwing the thought swiftly aside, he took to his feet, taking a beeline down the hall to a very specific vending machine that resided directly behind a large, sprawling glass window. If was very partial to anything that tasted sugary, and sodas were no exception. Though, now, he found it difficult to operated the still-functioning machinery, due to the fact he possessed little to no currency. There was no work to attend, all local companies ceased to allow in their workers, fearing the plague. It didn't disappoint him too greatly, however. He simply sat and marveled, but this day was different. As he drew near, Landon peered outside the windowpane, a commotion was ensuing. There was a female, as well as a stream of common Infected parading closely behind, her tawny tresses billowed as she fled. He noted a blood-stained wooden bat she carried in hand, and with which she promptly whirled around and struck one of her pursuers directly across the skull. Landon flinched, slightly squimish by the show. The gnashing growls and thick strikes against rotting heads brought much disturbance to the undead around and drew them near. They all encircled the girl, their tight-knit circle enclosing rapidly. She had none of it, not one bit. Batter up.. each swing was more aggressive than the last. Multiple bashed-in craniums fell under her prowess, littering the dirtied streets with their crimson blood and skull fragments. She did this until her last breath, the small horde overthrew the reckless Survivor and swallowed her whole.


	3. Chapter 3

**And back to the present...**

The atmosphere had suddenly drew damp, overcasted with plumes of thick cloud and progressed to relieve itself over the city. Precipitation fell heavily, beating all who hadn't sought shelter from it's lead-like drops. It didn't take too much to convince the new Hunter, he had retreated upon the first commencement of a dreary sprinkle and fled for his hideaway, a secluded room shielded by a vibrant crimson door; he hated the rain. It was unoccupied, other than himself that was, and he was fine with that. Behind the sturdy door lay a bounty to any Survivor: piles of ammunition, bottles upon bottles of medications with labels that Landon himself could no longer comprehend, first aid, even a few firearms rested in a corner on a small table. But he wasn't seeking these, oh, no. Landon hoisted himself onto a counter to reach a set of higher cabinets, prying them open for the fortune they hid. It was simply food, but he had a specific he found appealed to his taste best. Beef jerky.

"Rrr..~" he gnarred delightly, shearing the packaging as an eager child would a present on Christmas day. The Hunter snatched a strip of the preserved provision in his maw, springing from the counter top to the door with ease, closing it so as not to attract any unwanted guests that may want to swipe his loot.

It took only moments for him to return to the dried beef and wolf it down; an insatiable appetite demanded to be fed at least every few hours. Landon merely ignored the requests.. most of the time. A new set of instinct occasionally urged him to follow, and seemed to promise reward for doing so. However, he still found himself to be a tad pusillanimous to fully go through with them and often fled from fear. Unbeknownst to him, these instincts were laggardly seizing reign over his mentality.

Full for the time being, Landon made way to examine one particular item within the safe room. It was the bottles, one of which was left ajar and a few tablets had already spilled out. The markings, words really, were hard to make out, it was if his literacy had been watered down to only the basics and this was all that remained. He held the container close, poor visioned, and began to sound out the letterings in a garbled, slurred dialect that only halfly resembled any recognizable english. Then he began his inspection; it was all up to his sensory system from there, which only mainly consisted of touch, hearing, taste, and smell. Choosing to only exercise one of the senses, he lapped up a single pill from the counter space, nipping it, and immediately spat out. Landon flailed slightly, tongue lolling from his jaws in disgust. It looked like candy, how could it taste so.. so.. HORRENDOUS? He lurched away, clawing at his taste buds to dispel the unfavorable flavor, to a corner that housed a makeshift roost composed of an emergency blanket he had discovered once, as well as an old couch cushion. Climbing atop of his resting spot, he circumscribed for a moment, animalistically, before retiring for the night, listening to the gentle melody of the common's groans and the bleating rain.


	4. Chapter 4

The saferoom was dim, the rain had even subsided and the dull clouds parted to further their wet reign elsewhere..

_**Ker-klunk!**_

The sudden noise roused Landon, who tiredly lifted his head in confusion. _What was that..?_ He eyed the thick door that locked out potential hazards, curiosity seizing control. Lifting his frame, he stretched briefly, opening his maw in a noisy yawn before approaching the vivid door to investigate.

Peering through the small, barred slot, he saw that there wasn't much out there.. but wait... what's that? Forcing the heavy steel door away, though keeping it a reasonable length open should he have to retreat, Landon drew in for a closer examination of the mystery item. It was a shade of red, close to mimicking that of the safehouse door, slightly rectangular, and rested face down in a puddle.

"**What is this..?"** Landon murmured quietly to himself, head tilted, sniffling about as if to catch a scent. Something didn't seem right..

"_**RAAAHGH!**_"

Immediately Landon found himself pinned, face pressed into the street by an unseen figure that perched on his upper back. Startled, he yelped, struggling, to which his subduer merely applied more force onto the back of Landon's skull. His attackers piercing talons threatened to jut through his hood. Two figures leapt down in outside of Landon's line of sight, addressing the form that suppressed him.

"**You got this little guy, boss? Or would you rather we keep him busy?**" one questioned, eagerly readied for a response, jittering.

"**Nah.. he's no trouble,**" the 'boss' growled in an oddly calm tone that steadily grew almost agitated as Landon continued to squirm underneath his grasp, "**Take what you can find, but make it quick; I don't wanna have to waste my time with this little shit all night..**"

Landon recognized these voices, these growls, weren't they of the band of Hunters that freely patrolled the city?

"**Yes, Prometheus,**"

The two subordinate Hunters nodded, dismissed, and tore into the treasure trove of a safehouse, bent on plundering anything of interest or any edible rations worth snatching.

"**..Hey!**" yowled Landon, his cry fell on deaf ears as the orchestra of clatter and rummaging drowned it.

"**Heh, it's nothing personal, kid. If you're not bold enough to hold down your turf, the you don't deserve to keep it. I've seen you around, and don't go thinking I haven't. Going solo in this city isn't going to get you far, as you can now see.. or maybe not.**" he noted, chuckling softly as he tightened his grasp around the unskillful Hunter's hood.

"**Mikey, Tony, I've seen Boomers faster than you, hurry up!**"

It had only been a few minutes, the leader was growing swiftly impatient with this 'babysitting', and concocted a means to amuse himself while his subordinates took their damn time. Landon, meanwhile, continued to thrash about relentlessly, in hopes it would somehow free himself, but had yet to prevail.

"**Heh. I think I'll give you a chance, kid," **the Hunter announced at last.

It was sudden, but Landon found the weight lifted away from his upper spine, then he was brought to his feet. This was the first time he got a good look at this 'alpha' Hunter. He was certainly taller than Landon, camouflage design ranging from a soft gray to a deep onyx plastered his hoodie, a white brim of a baseball cap poking out from under the hood. Scars riddled his hands, and one sharply streamed down his chin.

The alpha had one mere request as he bounded a few meters back and assumed a trademark Hunter's crouch:

"**Go on, humor me, kid!**"

Landon stood unwavering for a moment, frozen that he was put on the spot to _fight_,or at least attempt to, with this skilled adversary. Abruptly, an instinctual rush compelled him to imitate the stance. He churned a vocal snarl, taking a step forward that would resemble a quadruped. His opponent seemed unfazed and composed, as he simply grinned, taunting him.

Provoked, Landon pounced forth to take the first move, claws outstretched to seize hold of his opponent's hoodie upon contact. Nothing the leader hadn't seen before, as he merely sidestepped the attack, sending Landon sprawling across the pavement ungracefully. This only further displayed his inexperience.

"**Hah! You're making this too easy, rookie!**" Prometheus commented, whirling around, and using the same method to pin Landon on his back this time. He aimed his strikes at the young Hunter's forearms which were raised defensively. After all, he wasn't out to _kill, _just...teach.

Proving that clawing about blindly was not be of any use while defending with a fore-appendage, Landon instead threw out his arms, grappling his talons into the mid spine of the alpha's hoodie, reeling himself in, clamping onto an upperarm with his jaws.

"**What- hey there, now you're using your head."**

Hearing the foray beginning to die down behind him, time was up, no more playing around; he had to dislodge the kid's jaws from his arm.

The lead battered his claws heavily into the withstanding Landon, face and maw, targeting a specific hit for the eyes that finally released him from the kid's lock.

It was a brief scuffle, but never-the-less, Prometheus was entertained. Perhaps the young Hunter had potential, should he be taught correctly.

Everything within half of his vision was now a reddish tint. Landon whined sharply, pawing at the bleeding gash hidden by the shade of his hood. This attracted the attention of the two lackeys that had finally finished there raid; the utterances of Landon seemed to ring about the area.

"**Alright, boss, we got as much as we could. What were you doing out here, anyway?**" the other one spoke this time, the one with the deep orange hoodie, inquiring towards the wounded Landon.

"**Your mom, now lets go. See ya around, kid.**" he kicked a small spare roll of bandaging over to Landon before promptly exiting with the other two, wall-jumping and disappearing over the building next door.

Landon pawwed about blindly, his eye was his only decent source of vision now, and took the wrapping into hand. Removing his hood, he unwound the roll around his head, and coated his wounded left eye. He could tell it was just a fleshy injury. It surged painfully as the coarse material came into contact with his eye, and it dripped a crimson blood, profusely, until contained beneath the binding. Flipping his hood back to resume covering his face, he turned his attention to the object that lured him outside in the first place. He crawled over to it, picking it up to see with his now only "good" eye what was written on it's screen.

It was difficult to make out, as it looked like it had been speedily written and the screen was broken, but it read in jagged letters:

**HeLp**

**A/N : BTW, for those who didn't quite catch it, the object that Landon found was an Etch-A-Sketch. :0**

**Review! :D**


End file.
